Peters bowed.
“It was my lady’s wish,” she said.
“Ah, yes,” said Mr. Blight. “By the by, Peters, here’s a sovereign for you. I always admired your sturdy independence, Peters. My aunt loved you, ah, like a sister, and leaned upon you, and all that, Peters. I hope she has remembered you at the last. It would be a pity if she had not left some trifle, to mark her appreciation of your fidelity and affection.”
“I have no fault to find,” said Peters coldly, rejecting the coin. “My dear lady remembered me generously in her will—”
“Her will?” interrupted Mr. Blight eagerly. “She did make a will then? I am glad to hear it. Had she died without a will, Miss Bird and Mrs. Wroat’s other relatives would have divided the Wroat property and fattened upon it. As it is, I am sure Mrs. Wroat has done me justice. She would not have remembered any faults of ours in her dying hour, but would have seen to it that Mr. Wroat’s nephew had his proper share in Mr. Wroat’s property. I suppose you know the purport of the will.”
Peters bowed assent.
“I shouldn’t mind a matter of five pounds,” said Mr. Blight insinuatingly. “I should like to know if my poor aunt did justice to me in her last moments?”
“I don’t want your money, Mr. Blight,” said Peters, “but if you are anxious to know, I will tell you that Mrs. Wroat did you justice in her will. That is all that I will say. I am not at liberty to betray the contents of the will, which will be read immediately after the burial.”
The countenances of the two fortune-hunters glowed with delight. They interpreted Mrs. Peters’ words to suit themselves.
Mrs. Peters gave them no time for further questioning. She summoned the boot-boy, and ordered him to conduct the guests to their chamber, and then departed to the room where her dead mistress was lying. The boy led the way up stairs, Mr. and Mrs. Blight following, and ushered them into the red room, opposite Lally’s apartment, and next in beauty and convenience to Lally’s rooms.